


Conversion

by Queen_Bovine



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Amputees, Changing Perspectives, Dragons, Family, Friendship, Gen, Peace after war, Prosthetic Limbs, Vikings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 22:53:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13133892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_Bovine/pseuds/Queen_Bovine
Summary: While Hiccup sleeps, his world transforms around him. Some changes are big, some are small, but he is the unknowing catalyst for them all. Oneshot, mid-HTTYD. (Also ontumblr.)





	Conversion

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a Christmas present for a friend. It takes place near the end of the first movie, before Hiccup wakes up after the Red Death battle. I tried subtly focus on changing perspectives. Hint: pay attention to the pronouns.

Gobber heaved his way up to the Haddock home, grimacing when his peg leg was jostled by a loose stone. In his good hand, he clutched supplies to take measurements for Hiccup’s new leg. He had seen Gothi and her assistant entering the Bjarnesen home several minutes earlier, no doubt to attend to Snorre’s badly-burnt arm, and had taken the opportunity to start his project without getting in her way. A Nadder shrieked as it swooped close overhead and he flinched, clamping down on the urge to rush for a shield. Strange and unnerving as this days-old peace with the dragons had been, he had no desire to reignite the past violence with a too-hasty reaction. Never let it be said that Vikings preferred an uneventful life, but the Hairy Hooligans were not as stupid as his apprentice seemed to believe. Some battles were worth avoiding.

Still, this transition was proving to be a difficult one. The communication barriers between the two groups were much more obvious now that they were actually _trying_ to get along, and there had already been several minor injuries resulting from unavoidable misunderstandings. Hiccup’s survival had certainly been a gift from Odin, but Loki had gotten his say, too, in keeping him asleep where his ability to befriend dragons was out of reach. His fellow trainees’ attempts to spread what little he had taught them when they teamed up with the training dragons were welcome, if rather paltry in the face of this enormous task.

Thankfully, the dragons seemed as eager as the humans to play nice and not hold grudges, or the whole situation might have quite literally gone up in flames already. That these seemingly-bloodthirsty creatures would take deliberate care around their new neighbors, often choosing to fly away from a conflict instead of fighting back, was going a long way to convince Gobber that dragons were also much more intelligent than they had been given credit for.

The biggest proof of that, however, was lurking behind the chief’s door now in front of him.

He tapped on the scarred wood with his tongs-attachment and it opened inward a few moments later. Stoick squinted as the sunlight met his eyes and sagged in relief when he saw his visitor wasn’t there with another dragon complaint. “Gobber. I’m glad you’re here.” His head was bare and the lines in his face were noticeably deeper than they had been only a week before. The main source of his stress lay unconscious in the bed behind him.

Gobber nodded by way of greeting. “How’s the lad holding up?” He glanced around the room as he hobbled in, but there was no Night Fury in sight. Had it finally gone to join the other dragons? “He’s not woken?”

“No.” His friend closed the door behind him. “Mumbled a bit when Gothi changed the wraps, but never opened his eyes. We have Eir’s blessing, though, he’s healing well.” He eyed the bundle in Gobber’s hand. “Is that…?”

“For the leg, yeah. I could whip up another peg in a jiffy, but I’m thinking he’ll be wanting something a little more, ah, _unique.”_

Stoick smiled at that. “No, I can’t imagine he’d settle for anything simple.” His voice was layered with equal parts affection and sorrow, and the smith clapped a supportive hand to his shoulder.

“Don’tcha worry, Stoick, he’ll be back to driving you up the wall in no time. Then you’ll be wishing you’d appreciated the peace and quiet a little more. And there’s a bright side, too, he won’t have to worry about sock-stealing trolls anymore!” The chief leveled a flat stare at him and Gobber chuckled.

He moved to the bed and used his tongs to lift a corner of the bedcovers. Something creaked above him, and he glanced upward only to jerk back and swear as his eyes met a green, slitted pair that almost seemed to float in the air. Draped over a rafter, the dragon’s body was difficult to see in the dim lighting. It had tensed into a crouch, probably in response to his approaching Hiccup. A rumbling noise spilled from its mouth, not a growl, but still a warning. A reminder of the creature’s watchfulness over its rider.

“He won’t stop you,” Stoick said, when the staring match didn’t seem likely to end any time soon. “He let Gothi do her work just fine.”

“How long has the beastie been up there?” Gobber directed his question to Stoick, his gaze not leaving the Night Fury.

“Since Gothi changed the wraps. He was lying by the bed before, but wouldn’t leave the room when she needed him out of the way. This was the compromise.”

“Huh.” Finally looking back down, Gobber pulled the covers away from Hiccup’s stump again and began to work, eyes occasionally flickering up to the occupied rafter. He hadn’t intended to be ungentle to start with, but his actions held an extra level of care prompted by the feral presence above. The dragon, for its part, relaxed after a few moments, settling against the rafter like an enormous winged cat, tail twitching from time to time. It never stopped watching, though.

“What’d Hiccup call it, again?” Gobber’s question broke the silence. “The Night Fury?”

Stoick grunted in an amused way. “Toothless.”

 _“Toothless?”_ The smith’s eyebrows shot upward, and he glanced at the menacing shadow above, which had perked up when the wholly-inaccurate name was voiced. He shook his head and reminded himself that Hiccup’s mind worked in strange ways.

Gobber finished quickly, despite the pressure. Measurements taken and injured boy tucked back in, he sat next to the weary father to keep company a little longer. “The leg should be done day after tomorrow. I’ll make sure to strap it on so he don’t wake up stuck in bed.”

That got him a raised eyebrow. “Maybe I _want_ him stuck in bed for a bit. You know he won’t be as careful with that injury as he should.”

“No, Stoick, the last thing he needs is to feel trapped. It’ll be hard enough as is.”

Nodding, Stoick acquiesced. “I won’t argue with that. Besides,” he sighed “if he couldn’t walk, he’d probably just ride Toothless out of the house anyway. There’s no keeping him down.” This time it was pride that warmed the chief’s voice.

“Too true.” A chortle sprung from Gobber’s lips. “Y’know, maybe I won’t make him a leg after all. Walking’s far too mundane for him, he’ll just fly on dragonback everywhere he goes! Just think of it!”

Stoick began to chuckle as well. “Ay, no need for a prosthetic limb when you’ve got the offspring of lightning and death as your shadow! It’s just the sort of dramatic thing he’d love.”

They laughed together, the oppressive weight of the sickroom lifting with their cheer.

Suddenly, the door banged open and Alva, the village tanner, burst in. “Chief! We need—”

Her interruption was cut short when a black blur shot from the ceiling and tackled her to the ground, hissing and growling. The woman gave a very unvikingly shriek at the sight of the fanged maw _(see,_ Hiccup, plenty of teeth!) and angrily narrowed eyes above her. Stoick shot to his feet.

“Whoa, now!” Gobber cried, following. “Back off, dragon!”

The Night Fury ignored him, continuing to snarl at the villager pinned beneath its paws. Its ear-plates were pressed flat to its head, and its wings were spread to make it look bigger and more threatening. Though it made no move to attack further, it was an intimidating sight.

Stoick approached carefully, hands held out. “Toothless,” an ear rose, “let her go.” The black-scaled head swung around to give at the red-bearded man a look Gobber would almost call questioning. “She’s not a danger,” Stoick stressed, coming closer.

The dragon eyed Alva for a moment longer, then stepped back and slunk over to Hiccup’s bedside, where it kept watch on the Viking men.

Eyes wide and face pale, the woman took the hand the chief offered her and stood on shaking legs.

Gobber released a heavy breath. “Perhaps it’d be wise not to come barging in somewhere a protective Night Fury’s holed up in, eh?”

“What do you need, Alva?” Stoick asked with a hint of exasperation.

Eyes still glued to the dragon on the other side of the room, she couldn’t seem to remember. “Ah...there was a thing...um, a problem with some, uh, Gronckles…”

The giant man sighed. “I’ll be there as soon as I can, go tell everyone.” Alva left quickly, still rattled.

As soon as the door closed, the Night Fury turned away and started tending to Hiccup, nuzzling at his brow and giving little licks to his face. Gobber watched in amazement, the gentle behavior so different from the ferocity it had displayed only moments ago. Stoick crossed to his bearskin cloak hanging on the opposite wall and swung it around his shoulders.

“Hang on,” Gobber started. “you’re not leaving the dragon here alone with him?”

“I can’t depend on Spitelout to do _everything_ until he wakes up, not with all this upheaval.” His friend placed his helmet on his head.

 _“I_ can’t stay, I’ve got _my_ work to do.”

“I’m not asking you to. It’s only for a bit, and...they’ve likely already spent more time alone together than I like to think about.”

Gobber now remembered the sketches he’d found in his apprentice’s backroom the day before. He considered their subject, who had now climbed _onto_ the bed and was carefully arranging his body around Hiccup’s so as not to jostle his stump leg.

Stoick opened the door. “Besides,” he said, pausing in the frame. “You were right, Gobber.”

The smith turned back towards him. “About what?”

“I can’t protect him forever...but that doesn’t mean nobody will.” The not-so-weary-anymore father shared a look with the creature next to his son, and something passed between them, an understanding revolving around the boy asleep in the bed. Stoick nodded, Toothless blinked, then they both turned away. The chief left the house and the dragon rested his chin next to the pillow, nose buried in his rider’s auburn strands. Hiccup mumbled something unintelligible and turned his head to press against the scaly snout before settling again.

Gobber regarded the peaceful pair for a few minutes. The Night Fury was so quiet and still, he couldn’t tell if he’d gone to sleep as well. He shook his head and laughed, prompting one green eye to open and peer at him. “Him having a dangerous shadow really isn’t that far off, is it?.” He looked straight at the black beast, who opened both eyes and tilted his head curiously. “You, beastie, are not at all what we expected. But then, things never do happen like they should when Hiccup’s involved.” He smiled at the small form under the covers. “And sometimes that’s not a bad thing.”

Toothless looked down at Hiccup as well, and purred in agreement. Gobber jabbed a finger at him, regaining his attention. “This means it’ll be _your_ job to make sure he doesn’t go and blow himself up again.”

The dragon huffed, offended.

Gobber crooked a grin. “Yeah, you would already know that. He’s very good at it, after all.”

There was a snort of amusement. Toothless laid his head down again and curled closer to his rider. A great black wing unfolded and laid itself across the boy like a blanket.

The blacksmith sized up the asymmetrical tail with its lonely fin. He remembered another part of Hiccup’s sketches and came to a decision. Turning away from the friends snuggled together on the bed, he muttered to himself, “Suppose Stoick’ll have to wait a few more days on that leg. After all, it’s not every week I have to put together a matched set for _two_ amputees.” He limped outside and blinked down at the path before him.

It had never seemed brighter.

**Author's Note:**

> Equivalent exchange: I give a story, you give a comment.


End file.
